


cherry bomb

by crownedcirce



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Roller Derby, Enemies to Lovers, F/F, Meet-Cute, Trans Character, brief mention of lingerie, just some fun loving sapphic vibes, kind of, more like annoyed acquaintances to something more, pinup!Mila, trans!Sara
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-30
Updated: 2018-12-30
Packaged: 2019-09-30 15:47:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,265
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17226860
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crownedcirce/pseuds/crownedcirce
Summary: Sara’s life had been choreographed. It had always been meticulously planned. Training, competitions, events and even family time was written into her daily planner in pen. Her plans were always permanent. There was never any room for anything else. Nobody else.Until she fell.





	cherry bomb

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Val_Creative](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Val_Creative/gifts).



> this is my piece for the Milasara gift exchange 2018 for Val_Creative!
> 
> small disclaimer: i'm australian and therefore do not understand the meaning of winter. SO i actually stayed away from both winter and holiday themes and went for a quirky fun sapphic mood instead. I hope my giftee doesn't mind and I hope they like it. Also, i'm sorry i can't stick to word limits? 
> 
> happy holidays x
> 
> p.s. y'all can find me on pillowfort, twitter, and instagram now @punktsuki x

Sara’s life had been choreographed. It had always been meticulously planned. Training, competitions, events and even family time was written into her daily planner in pen. Her plans were always permanent. Of late, her days consisted of waking up, jogging, training, and working. Rinse and repeat. Throw in the scheduled medication times and doctors appointments too, there was never any room for anything else. Nobody else, even. Not that she complained or anything. Sara lived and breathed her artistic skating life and she was so grateful for the life that she did have. She’d gotten past _a lot_ of shit to get here and she had worked so damn hard. But at times, she wished that she could live in the moment when her skating routines were still forming. She loved when things were in motion, still shifting and changing. Not complete, set, or decided yet. Surely it’s not too much to ask to just stay at that point for a little while longer, right?

 

This fluid, still-changing point was the moment she was in, for this routine, and she didn’t want to let it go.

 

She was still in the midst of coming up with the choreography for her long program. She was still working out which combinations and jumps to do and where to place them. She was still figuring out what this routine meant to her and how to show it. She had gone against her brother’s recommendations this season. She had chosen her own music and more than ever, despite whether or not she was making the right decision, she felt that her plan was her own.

 

Nobody else around her was controlling this. There was no family intrusion or direction, there was no doctors orders, there was nobody telling her what path she needed to roll down. This was just her, the music, and her roller skates.

This was the moment she lived for. Not the training itself once the routine was solid, not the competitions, not the glittery costumes, and _certainly_ not standing on a podium after placing with a medal. No, it was the uncertainty and it was the problem solving and dancing, spinning on her wheels, not knowing if what she had come up with looked good but _knowing_ that it felt great anyway. It was at this point that she was free.

 

✫✫✫

 

Sara’s eyes snapped open and her head whipped towards the entrance of the rink when her routine music was abruptly cut off; replaced by boisterous cackles, a cacophony of curses, and the rumble of wheels making their way down the entrance ramp and onto the skating floor. Sara was familiar with this old routine too. The Poison City Roller Derby team.

 

The team was made up of loud, brash girls covered in an even amount of tattoos and bruises. They drank during their practice times, took over the sound system with obnoxious music layered with guitar riffs, and took up a majority of the space on the floor. The derby team occupying the rink made it impossible for Sara to train, and they knew it.

 

“You have _got_ to be kidding,” Sara muttered under her breath, sighing and following the trail of girls now speedily skating in loops around her with her eyes. Her space was now being taken over by a dozen pairs of booty shorts and the smell of cheap hairspray.

 

These were not Sara’s people. They always interrupted her sessions on purpose, it was a constant, however silent, battle between who got this space and who didn’t. This was Sara’s day though, she had let the rowdy group have the rink yesterday. She wouldn’t stand for this.

 

Breathe.

 

She could do this. It was her versus 15 other, tougher, people. But she could do this. On an exhale, she rolled towards the team, aiming for a red headed girl she knew the rest of the team called “Sailor Cherry.”

 

Sailor Cherry was both visibly strong and pin-up pretty. Sara had seen her around the rink for years, the tattoos inking her porcelain skin multiplying, marking the time. She was the girl who put the derby team together. The only time she had spoken to her was when she had asked Sara to sign up two years prior. Sara had obviously stuttered out a “no”, followed by a list of reasons why - her budding artistic skating career being the most prominent. This girl was confident and beautiful and the kind that made Sara’s mouth dry while her palms clammed up. She was intimidating to say the least. So, Sara usually kept her distance and expressed her usual annoyance through loud huffs, eyerolls and door slamming as she exited the rink when she was interrupted. The time had come though, to speak up and claim her space.

 

As she approached, the other girl placed a pink helmet on top of her head, buckling it under her chin. The helmet had a large, red star on either side. _So, she’s the jammer_. Sara gulped down a lump in her throat that came along with the thought that this girl could probably just laugh and push her aside without a struggle or second thought. She could do this though. She could.

 

“E-excuse me?” Sara’s voice wavered without her permission. The girl in front of her just raised one carefully sculpted eyebrow. “This is my practice time, you might have made a mistake. I had the rink booked for-” Sara was cut off.

 

“Can’t we share the rink?” The smirk on the girl’s face gave away any attempt at concealing her amusement. Her icy blue eyes damn near _sparkled_ with it. Combined with a heavy russian accent, Sara felt her heart freeze over under her stare. How did this girl have such an effect on her? She couldn’t allow this, she needed the practice.

 

“Look, Cherry, I-It’s really important. I have a comp coming up and I need the space and my music-”

 

“So, you’re really over here to get on the bad side of an entire derby team?” the girl gave an disbelieving giggle. “You’ve got guts, girl.”

 

“Well… no. No, that’s not it at all but I need to practice-” Sara was interrupted again. Perhaps, it was for the better though, she did tend to stutter and ramble when she was uncomfortable.

 

“How about I make it up to you?” That smirk was still spread across her red-painted lips. Sara would be lying if she said she hadn’t been staring at her mouth. “Come out for drinks with me tonight, we can discuss this then.”

 

Sara froze in place, not able to come up with a reply. This just went from zero to a hundred real fast.

 

“Meet me at the Red Rattler at 9,” she _winked_ at Sara and turned back to her derby team before Sara could respond. She couldn’t respond. She couldn’t actually meet her for drink either though. Right? No, Sara’s schedule didn’t allow for this.

 

At this point, both this night and her routine were going to end in disaster. But, there was something about this girl that reminded Sara of the fluidity and the freedom that she craved. All quick decisions, fleeting winks and lingering smirks; she was the epitome of the feeling that Sara wanted to hold onto.

 

✫✫✫

 

Sara wasn’t exactly sure why she had agreed to come here. She hadn’t exactly _agreed_ but, here she was. In a bar, alone. Even more mortifying was that the girl she was expecting to meet here, was nowhere in sight.

 

Well, that was until she was very much _there._ Under a spotlight, hair pin curled, and wearing nothing but cherry red lace.

 

✫✫✫

 

“When you asked me to meet you here I wasn’t under the impression that you were inviting me to a strip show,” Sara stated in a pointed tone. Her face was burning in a blush that spread down her neck, she could feel it. This wasn’t what she had signed up for. They were sitting opposite each other in a small booth now. The condensation from the drink this girl had bought Sara was dripping down the glass and pooling onto the tacky wooden table-top. What was she doing here?

 

The girl was dressed in denim shorts and a T-shirt  after her… performance, which had been equal parts mortifying and inticing for Sara to watch. The redhead just simply shrugged though.

 

“It’s my job. And, it’s burlesque,” that smirk was back again. “There’s a difference.”

 

“Cherry, I-”

 

“It’s Mila,” she said. “Cherry is just for derby and performance, my name is Mila,” she waved her hand haphazardly in mid air as if to physically swish her pseudonym away.

 

Oh.

 

Sara tried to ignore the annoying flutter in her chest that told her that she knew this girl on a more personal level now. Sure, seeing Mila mostly nude made her cheeks flush crimson but, getting her name? She wanted to hold onto it. Of course, she would never say such things aloud.

 

“Well, _Mila_. Could you tell me why I’m here?” Sara feigned a nonchalant tone. In reality though, her heart was hammering, threatening to leap right out of her mouth.

 

“You know I’ve watched you skate for years, right?” Mila asked, her brows raising as she silently refused to look away from Sara. Sara could feel the flush on her face spread to the tips of her ears. Mila’s icy eyes were certainly not cold. There was fire in them that pinned Sara, frozen in place.

 

“You watch me?” Sara asked. “You watch me skate?” She corrected. Mila nodded, simply.

 

“I know you watch me, too.” She said it like a stated fact. Sara couldn’t exactly deny it.

 

“Why do you do it?” Sara was straight to the point. Problem solving was where she thrived. At the moment she was confused, she had to figure Mila out.

 

Mila shrugged. “I like to observe,” she stated simply.

 

“And what have you observed?” Sara challenged. Mila’s eyes softened, the fire and mischief momentarily put out.

 

“You work hard,” Mila stated. She leaned forward, placing he elbow on the table in front of her, her left cheek resting the palm of her hand as she continued to study Sara. “You’re meticulous and structured with your steps, you’re determined. But, you’re also a free spirit and i’d like to see that side of you more. In your routines. I think you need to let go, let loose, have fun. And that… is where the derby girls and I come in.”

“Excuse me?” Sara gawked. Yes, Mila’s observations were correct. But derby?

 

“Come skate for us and I can guarantee your artistic style won’t be as rigid for your next comp,” Mila explained.

 

“My style is _not_ rigid,” Sara was getting defensive now. She wasn’t sure why though, she knew that Mila was right. Getting out of her head was something she struggled with especially during competitions. “Okay, maybe it is a little,” Sara sighed, a little defeated. She just wanted to her things right at competitions, everyone wants her to get it right. “What are we going to do about it, exactly?”

 

✫✫✫

 

As much as Sara lived and breathed her skating routines, she had never been to the rink during  the night. She had keys, yes. She worked at the rink. But, it had taken some convincing to break the after-dark-on-a-weekday rule. Mila had done the convincing.

 

At first, Sara had been apprehensive. She wasn’t supposed to be doing this, this wasn’t routine, this wasn’t part of the plan. But, Mila had laughed and joked and reminded her that she was here to assist Sara in letting go a little. A familiar setting was a good place to start, she had argued.

 

Sara was now speed skating loops around the rink, Mila chasing behind, swerving in front of her and then dropping behind. Sara wasn’t exactly used to company on the ice, she wasn’t used to human obstacles. Not in the physical sense. At least, she wasn’t anymore. She relished the sensation of cold air brushing and whooping through the strands of her dark hair, the dry onslaught of breeze that hit her face as she skated. Faster, faster, in time with her racing heart beat. She glanced over her shoulder, ready to look back at Mila triumphantly as she dodged her swerves.

 

Mila wasn’t behind her though, not on this lap around. Sara’s body suddenly collided with another body of flesh. She slammed into Mila’s chest. There was two sets of audible _oofs_ as they slammed chest-to-chest. They both fell to the floor, collapsing. They were a tangled mess of  limbs and skates. Sara had at least instinctively braved herself, her palms flat against the ground on either side of the sprawl of red hair under her.

 

“See, you’re flying,” Mila puffed as she spoke, looking up at Sara from the rink floor. The oxygen had obviously been knocked out of her lungs as she took deep but ragged breaths. She laughed anyway. How could she laugh at this moment, when she shouldn’t have any left?

 

Sara couldn’t look away from the girl lying beneath her. A human manifestation of carefree freedom, of contradiction. Ice and fire, blue eyes and red hair. Either way, both were kickstarters of  life and natural disasters. Sara wasn’t sure which one this could end in. But, it was time to let go. Now was not the time for plans or choreography. There was no set path here.

 

So, she threw all caution to the wind.

 

“No. I think I’ve just fallen,” she replied.


End file.
